Shoot Me
by theravensdiadem
Summary: SPOILER ALERT FOR MOCKINGJAY. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE LAST BOOK. "Shoot me." The promise Katniss had made, the words that he whispered across the space between them as he was dragged away from her.


"Shoot me."

The promise Katniss had made, the words that he whispered across the space between them as he was dragged away from her. He didn't have time to contemplate if she knew what he had begged her for, all he knew was that she hadn't made his death painless. Still, that was the only time she loved him; when he was hurt.

Anger built up within him and the flames licked at him inside, begging for him to lash out. The flames were rising to his throat, he could feel the screams building, fighting to be heard. He parted his lips but all that came out was a strangled whimper. The anger disappeared until a heavy sorrow and sadness filled him.

She didn't love him, she couldn't love him. Not the way he loved her at least. The pain was quelling the flames. She didn't even love him enough to save him from a torturous death.

Not even a torturous life watching her love Peeta.

Tears crept down his cheek. He was just a boy, after all. He kept waiting for searing physical pain to start to stop the emotional pain. Nothing happened.

The strange people above him didn't even have their faces to him. They couldn't look him in the eye. He heard hushed tongues, felt the sharp sensation that he was the topic at hand.

Weakly, Gale noted he wasn't even shackled to a wall or tied up. The only problem was, was that he had no weapon. Nothing to defend himself with. Feeling like he could do nothing, Gale rested his head against the wall and thought of how he ended up in a situation like this. How did he end up in the Capitol, the place he hated so much? Why was he surrounded by strange beings, holding cruel blades, odd small spikes he supposed were Tracker Jacker stings, nightlock -probably the nicest option; death, and even his own trusted bow.

The bow...his incredibly crafted bow. With arrows that could bring down this tyranny with only a few tugs on the bowstring. Beetee was talented, he had to admit. The things that he had been able to craft were the finest Gale had ever seen. Perhaps even the Gamemakers would be proud. Gale had invented only one thing; his parachutes. He supposed it was sadistic that he wanted to fool citizens into thinking they were saved, then see their hearts ripped from their chests in the explosions. If they even had hearts.

He knew it was wrong, but it was fighting fire with fire. The Capitol could kill as many as they liked, but the favour would be returned today. Surely it was a good thing. He wouldn't sink as low as to hurt children, though. Even if they wished they could be in the Games and grasp the 'glory'.

Gale's reverie was ended by an explosion. Not far from where he was sheltered behind a corner, the front of the shop shattered and caved in. Rubble flew around him and he covered his head with his hands. Some shards of glass tore open the skin on his arm as he realised it had been sticking out. He noticed rising voices turned into screams. 3 of the several people fell down like dominos, scarlet trickling from their chests or face. Caused by fallen rubble or glass.

Gale didn't see anything but the bricks on the floor. Instinctively, he armed himself and rose from the floor. Knocking aside one of the people, he collided the brick with their skull once to leave them out cold.

"It will be much worse for all of you. Let me go. Let me find my Catnip."

He was receiving vacant looks, using his nickname for his Katniss. He knew his pleading was weak, but after everything, it was at least something that his voice remained steady.

"Let me, or you'll be among your friends. Please."

Standing there bloodied from battle, dark hair clinging to his forehead with droplets of moisture, and with the fire smouldering behind his Seam eyes, Gale felt weak but his passion and intensity were all that upheld him.

None of the citizens moved...a few cowered staring at the boy with a stone in his hand and bodies at his feet. The others raised their weapons. He knew he would lose easily, but he would try to get out...try to get to her. Help Katniss, and win the rebellion. He was nearly shaking, but he kept his cloudy gaze locked on the group of captors. That must have been something, they would be scared of this child who had seen so much and felt so strongly. He would've looked insane. Even to the Capitol.

In his mind he recalled Katniss being able to calm him. Whisper in his ear the logical thoughts he so often lost. He almost could feel her hand on his shoulder, pulling him back down to earth. He could feel himself losing hope. He wanted to get to Katniss so badly and save her from harm...but if he tried to fight so many people off, he would die in the end. It would hurt Katniss, that much he knew in his heart.

He wouldn't let anyone hurt his Catnip, especially not himself.

The brick fell to the ground below him with a thud. He shook his head and turned toward the hole where the window once stood. A flash suddenly invaded his vision and he scrambled closer, gripping onto the wall for support. Sure enough, what he thought he had seen was floating centimetres above the ground. Gale's eyes rounded and he barely had time for a scream to escape his lips as he dived behind another corner, praying it wouldn't crumble and form his tomb.

The silver parachute exploded and buildings shook all around the Capitol. Rainbow monuments shattered into dust and sent glass shards everywhere, opening the throats of wandering citizens. A distinct ringing was all that Gale heard. His head span, vision blurred, and scarlet crawling down his limbs was one of the few sensations he could feel.

His invention…they did this. But they shouldn't have been here, not leading up to the mansion. If Katniss was heading to the mansion to kill Snow, why were the bombs being dropped in an exact trail of her steps? Something was far from right, even with every sense he had dulled, Gale could tell. Like in a dream -or a terrifying nightmare- he had the weird sensations that everything was not real. All this blood and ruin, it didn't feel like it was truly there. Perhaps it was because of the explosion disorienting him, but he couldn't tell. His mind was set on what needed to be done.

Katniss, find Katniss.

He needed to make sure she was safe. Life without her was no life, it was punishment. He couldn't let whoever had started this scheme take one of the only reasons in his life to live. He pushed himself to his feet and found he could stand with bearable pain. His vision was the worst. He remembered Katniss after her blowing up of the Careers' supplies. She looked so very like he felt now. But she made it. She made it and so would he.

Slowly, he found the strength to tackle the mountain of bodies. He had no understanding of the time around him, just that everything was a struggle. It felt like he was walking shoulder deep in mud, with spears embedded in every crevice of his body. Added to that was his near-blindness and inability to hear. One thought kept pulling him on, the image of Katniss calling for him then being obliterated by the weapon he himself created.

Stumbling through the streets, explosions rained ahead. He kept trying to run but couldn't without falling. He didn't worry about being caught, so many had been killed around where he stood and many more would follow. He was probably alone in the entire sector, apart from the hovercrafts and parachutes in front of him, of course. With no sense of direction except for the bombs ahead, he was indeed lost. While speeding up once again only to lose balance and fall, Gale was starting to accept the fact he couldn't catch up to the parachutes. That didn't mean he couldn't find her and take her to the medics; take her to her mother and Prim. The best ones for her.

The ringing was dimming, and his vision would focus and sharpen if he really put his mind to it. It was something, so he was going to use it. He started running while keeping his eyes truly trained on the mansion appearing ahead. There were less stumbles less frequently now. If only he could get there. Get to Katniss.

He was nearly tied with the hovercrafts in the race to the mansion, when he saw something that made his heart stop. The parachutes were being dropped down a little from their compartments, but not released yet. They really were going to do it. Going to take Catnip away. He couldn't place whether it was a rebel or Capitol vehicle, but he didn't have time to either. Unsure if the pods were still around he often had to throw a stone ahead of him, leaving him behind the parachutes.

One last burst of desperate urgency forced his feet forward. He blinked for one second and found himself slamming into a wall he had not seen. The hovercraft sped ahead as he frantically crawled through the rest of the way, fighting the dizziness that was so strong he was practically rendered blind. His head throbbed, but he was still going to do this. How dare they use his invention to kill the one he was trying to protect.

Losing all hope of catching up, he held his head and gripped it firmly. Urging his eyes to see clearly again was a task. He was warding off the light-headedness and prayed to anyone that would listen that he could see again. For the rest of his life he wished he had kept his sight blurred. So he didn't have to live with what he did every day, knowing and remembering so clearly what happened.

Such dread filled him, when his head snapped up and saw a flash of blonde hair, golden in the sun. Such pretty hair it was, so unusual to be found in the Seam. It reminded him of Prim, of the sweet, lovely girl who was the sister of the one he loved. The one no one could help but love. The one that gave Katniss a reason to live when he could not. The one thing in Katniss' life that dispelled everything bad and filled it with so much good it lit up her life...

The Prim who he pulled away from Katniss, no matter how much she tried to hold on, at the Reaping. He remembered setting her down afterwards and holding her like he held Rory, Vick and Posy. Like a sibling. He even tucked in the shirt that hung loose like a tail. Gale opened his mouth to scream out to this girl, who had the exact same tail, to tell her to run away. Tell her of the bombs.

It couldn't be Prim, it couldn't. Not an innocent child. He noticed even more children with her and felt the words fighting to be voiced; to be screamed at them. They had to move, they didn't deserve to die. Yes, he tried to warn them, but another voice did before him.

"Prim!"

Katniss screamed, right as the parachutes exploded and burned everything she had ever been sure she loved.

Gale felt himself crying long before he heard himself. His screams of agony and loss were so inhuman they were animalistic, but they were in fact what deemed him human in a world set on fire out of coldness, like this. He scrambled to his feet and felt the heat on his face as he wandered almost half-heartedly into the scenes that awaited him.

It was worse than anything he had ever known. To see all these children smouldering away, never to see happiness again was soul-shattering. To _know_ one of these children was agony. To know _he_ caused it made him lose all will to live. He ran to Prim first, knowing if she was alive that would be enough to keep Katniss alive. Terror filled him as he saw the remains of her flesh as scarlet as the blood she shed. It was so nightmarish that he screamed some more until his throat was raw. Her hair was singed, and those eyes. those rare, round eyes so filled with innocence only reflected the burning around her and all the flames. They only reflected; they held no light in them. Only emptiness.

Collapsing into himself, Gale was never so broken and wracked with sobbing. He didn't want to see his Catnip if her little duck was already no more. Still, he forced himself to turn around. If he could save her, he would. She wasn't nearly as bad as Prim, but she was in a probably fatal state. Her skin was as red as Prim before her, her arms outstretched for Prim's hands. Her hair was also singed, the lovely dark locks so like his own were practically nothing now. Her eyes were closed, but still a stray tear rolled down her cheek, her lips barely tasting the screams that were supposed to be screamed.

Gale reached for her, and pulled her into his arms. He rocked back and forth, begging her to awaken.

"Please." Was all he asked of her lifeless body.

Prim was being dragged back into the flames, but perhaps that was better. Katniss shouldn't see her that way. No, she should remember her face being as lovely as the flower for which she was named. He cried for them both. He didn't know anything but flames created out of his own anger, and the deep emptiness where his heart used to live and thrive. Now, all his chest was, was a cavern which held a heart; but one that had no hope. One that knew there was no life after this, not when Katniss woke up and realised this was Gale's fault. He murdered Prim. With all these innocent children. No one could love a boy who did such a thing, never mind the Mockingjay who already loved another. He had signed his fate the minute he designed the parachutes.

The one thing that revived him only slightly was the feel of her fingers tightening around his, as if to grip him and use him to ground her like she always used to do for him. Maybe this was her coming back to earth, maybe she would live. His heart beat once more, before returning to its emptiness. There was no way he could be with her, even if he saved her. Gale could find another girl if he really tried, but Peeta couldn't. He loved her since he first saw her. Gale thought that maybe Katniss fell for him later than that...but she had fallen for _him_ before she had for Gale. That truth was like a dagger, and it cut him to the bone. Yet she was alive. Maybe in 10 or 15 years they could grow close again.

Gale could find another girl, but he could never find another best friend, after all.

He couldn't help himself, he kissed her one last time and left the last of his heart on her lips.

Hovercrafts floated in the sky everywhere now, but he only paid attention to the one that had the remaining medics aboard. He carried his Katniss to the ladder, forced himself to stay strong because of her, and was reeled up. The rebels took her from his grasp and he felt the sensation of loneliness come crashing down on him once and for all as he was left in the solitude of his dreams.

When he finally awoke some hours later, he knew exactly what to do. He refused to alert anybody of his awakening and instead found spare paper and started scribbling down letters. Lots and lots of letters. One for every year he thought he would distance himself from Katniss, and one to explain why he was leaving for District Two. That was 16 letters in all. 15 to sent to her over the years, reminding her of every good memory they had. Maybe reminding her of what it felt like not to hate him. He took fifteen of the letters with him as he prepared to flee, and left the last one on Katniss' bedside table. It was addressed 'Catnip' and he prayed that no one else would find it first and just tell her what had happened. He wanted her to hear it from him.

He could barely force himself out of the door but he had to leave. He had to leave and he wouldn't see that beautiful face for fifteen years.

Gale never did anything for a while. It was late at night, no one else awake.

He would leave before dawn, but for now it was enough to stay in the presence of Katniss without feeling her hatred.

With that, he slid to the ground, back against the glass walls, and cried. He mourned their relationship. Couldn't bear the thought of leaving. Maybe he could visit if ever he caved, and try and explain how he tried. How he _tried_ to save Prim. How he ran through ruins with no sense of anything just to find her. That wouldn't matter, not for a while yet. There'd be a whole lot of pain he'd endure and raw hatred he would feel but never see.

What he wouldn't give to still be able to see her beautiful eyes every day, without seeing the absence of life and happiness in them.

What he wouldn't give to be anyone else. Somebody she wouldn't gladly watch fall to the ground and die.

"Shoot me," he whispered.


End file.
